


i wanna eat pancakes for dinner (i wanna get stuck in your head)

by moreblack



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fluff, M/M, domestic jerejean courtesy of ren's secret santa prompts, i love them h, just early morning things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:26:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28345365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreblack/pseuds/moreblack
Summary: "I would kiss you even if you had coffee breath, and I would kiss you if you tasted like roses."___or, fluffy domestic jerejean that i wrote for a secret santa!!
Relationships: Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	i wanna eat pancakes for dinner (i wanna get stuck in your head)

**Author's Note:**

> ty jude for the fic title!!

Alarms were Jeremy Knox’s arch nemesis. He’d much rather be woken by natural sunlight than by obnoxious beeping at seven in the morning. Someday, he thought, blindly reaching out to turn it off, he was going to take a hammer to his clock. 

His eyes were heavy as he yawned and stretched into the place where Jean must have been moments before. The pillow was still warm, blanket neatly tucked into the sides of the bed, and the smell of pancakes was wafting into the room. Jeremy felt a smile stretch across his face. _Maybe,_ he thought as he got up to investigate, _this isn’t such a bad start to the day after all._

No, it wasn’t bad at all. Jean was in the kitchen, his back to Jeremy with an apron tied over his jammies, humming to whatever was on the radio. It gave Jeremy the perfect opportunity to wrap his arms around Jean from behind. “Bonjour, mon chou,” he said in what he knew was terribly accented French, making Jean groan and elbow him. Jeremy didn’t let it dissuade him from swaying them both to the tune.

“S'il vous plait, Monsieur Knox, if you are going to come into my kitchen and butcher my language, at least help with breakfast.” Despite his sharp tone, Jean’s eyes were bright as he turned in the circle of Jeremy’s arms. They were so close that their lips brushed as Jean spoke. Jeremy just hoped he wasn’t blushing like a schoolboy again. 

He hummed and nuzzled their noses together, successfully making Jean smile. “I’d rather watch you cook. It’s sweet.” _Shut the heck up, Jeremy, or you’ll be proposing by the end of the day._

It wasn’t like Jean cared, though, because his smile spread in a way that made butterflies tickle at Jeremy’s chest. “Is that so?” he muttered, spinning them around so Jeremy was against the oven, leaning in for an undoubtedly soft kiss.

Jeremy stole a dollop of pancake batter and slipped out of Jean’s arms, dodging the kiss. “Dude, I’m not gonna let the pancakes burn so I can make out with your morning breath.” That earned him a fondly exasperated face as Jean swivelled them back around so he could flip the first pancake.

“I would kiss you even if you had coffee breath, and I would kiss you if you tasted like roses,” Jean muttered, his thumb tracing Jeremy’s lips in an unbearably tender way. Jeremy was ready to melt into a little gay pile on the floor.

“Would you kiss me if I tasted like pancake mix?” Hoping Jean couldn’t see his thoughts this close, Jeremy put on his sunshine smile and licked the last drop of batter from his bottom lip. He was pleasantly surprised when Jean turned bright red.

But of course, it was Jean Moreau. Easy confidence overtook his blush in seconds. “Are you asking me to kiss you? What happened to morning breath, mon soleil?” _Tease._ Jeremy pulled himself up onto the counter and nicked more pancake batter. The sun was streaking in through the window, turning Jean’s sharp features soft and painting them in dazzling shades of pink and gold. He looked almost angelic, sunrays making a halo around his head. It was making Jeremy’s insides do something funny.

“I remembered that you’re a vampire who wakes up at, like, two a.m. and have probably already brushed your teeth. Now kiss me, idiot,” he said as he pulled Jean in by the straps of his apron.

Jean’s laugh as he leant in was music to Jeremy’s ears. “You wake up at six in the morning, you cannot say anything about me being an early riser.” The words were lost somewhere between their lips before Jean pulled away in favour of peppering Jeremy’s face with kisses, holding it in his hands.

“Mmm, have you washed your hair already?” Jeremy curled himself around Jean like a koala so he could reach the dark curls at the nape of his neck, threading his fingers through them and pressing chaste kisses along his hairline. “Smells nice. ‘S soft.” He could never get enough of Jean’s shampoo. Whatever was in it, it was expensive; mango and macadamia, edelweiss, something else Jeremy couldn’t quite put a finger on. It smelled like luxury, and it smelled like Jean, even if he wasn’t the one wearing it. Like home.

Silence settled over them for a moment. Soft, comfortable silence, just them and the sunrise and the expensive shampoo. Jeremy was content to play with his boyfriend’s curls as he watched the sky outside turn gold. Then Jean’s voice: “I do not think you realise quite how endearing you are when you have just woken up.”

He had to swallow down the urge to goddamn _giggle._ What was Jean doing to him? “Not as endearing as you making pancakes,” he murmured, his kisses finding their way from Jean’s hairline back to his lips.

“Shit, the pancakes!”

Jeremy had never let go of Jean so quick, twisting to turn off the stove. It was too late. The pancakes were already half-blackened. “Poor pancakes. They’ll be missed,” he said sombrely, picking out the good bits to pop into his mouth. Jean sighed. 

“Ah, it’s fine. I like pancake batter more when it is on your lips.”

That made Jeremy let out an undignified snort. “Are you capable of saying anything that isn’t disgustingly sappy, or is it just the European in you?” Not that Jeremy was complaining. He loved Jean’s little compliments, how he absentmindedly made Jeremy feel so… _wanted._

“Be careful there, or the European in me might stop cooking for you.” 

“You wouldn’t dare!” Jeremy gasped, scandalised. He reached over to where the ingredients were and tossed a handful of flour right in Jean’s infuriatingly pretty face.

Jean yelled a French curse and covered his own hands in flour, swiping it all across Jeremy’s hoodie. “Wait, that is not revenge. That is just getting back at myself,” he said as he realised the black Queen hoodie hanging off his boyfriend’s frame belonged to him, not Jeremy, who could feel himself going pink.

He tried to distract Jean by picking up the butter and beginning to lob it at him, but Jean’s arms were around his waist before he could even attempt it. “You are adorable, Jeremy Knox,” Jean said as he bit into a piece of burnt pancake.

_“Hey!_ That was the last good bit!”


End file.
